Beard
by coffeebuddha
Summary: Spencer sits on the sidelines and watches Garcia act as Derek's date at a coworker's wedding.


It's just for a couple more hours, Spencer reminds himself as he watches Derek guide Garcia around the dance floor. The wedding is over and they've already been at the reception for the better part of an hour. A couple more and he can reasonably make an excuse and slip away-it's not like people really expect him to be sociable at these sort of things anyway. Derek will still need to take Garcia home first, but Spencer knows that by the time he's ready to curl up in bed with a book, Derek will be walking through the bedroom door, his suit jacket off and his tie loosened, and make some crack about how Spencer should have waited for him so that they could shower together.

An older woman at the next table makes a comment about 'that nice interracial couple' and Spencer finishes off his flute of champagne and immediately reaches for the one Derek left behind. It's necessary. He knows that. Agent Anderson's a nice enough guy and probably wouldn't care-hell, his best man mentioned his life par tner in the speech he gave-but one nice guy doesn't really amount to much when you work in one of the most homophobic environments around. It doesn't help that their relationship still wouldn't be completely kosher, even if they were straight. But then, Strauss isn't exactly storming across the room to yank Garcia out of Derek's arms and yell regulations at them.

His glass is empty again. Spencer isn't certain when that happened, but thankfully there's a waiter walking by with a full tray at that moment, and that crisis is averted. Anderson and his new wife are on the dance floor now, their arms tight around each other, and Spencer wants that so badly that it's like a sharp, physical pain in his chest. Not the actual wedding, of course. He could live ten lifetimes and still be fine with never going through the hassle of the flowers and the clothes and the food and the other people. But to be able to stand up in front of everyone he knows and just hold onto Derek like that? With one last swig of champagne, Spencer staggers to his feet and stumbles toward the hall. He's Spencer Reid, the local socially inept freak. If he can't get away with skipping out on a wedding, then no one can.

He's leaning against the coat check counter, waiting for the girl to get his jacket, when a hand lands on his shoulder. The shape and weight are familiar-he's felt that hand over every inch of his body, after all-and for a second he wants to pull away and just leave, but then Derek squeezes a little and Spencer straightens and turns to face him. Garcia's just behind him, her pretty face creased with worry, but whatever she sees in Spencer's eyes makes her bite her lips together and quickly excuse herself.

"Nobody will notice if I leave," Spencer points out before Derek can say anything. His words are a little slurred, and Derek's eyes narrow.

"I'll notice," he says. His hand strokes down Spencer's arm, but only lingers for a moment before he pulls away and glances back toward the crowded ballroom to make certain no one saw.

Spencer laughs, and it sounds hollow in his own ears. "I think this is one of those cases where you don't count. I can't do this," he adds quickly when Derek looks like he would protest. "I'll take a cab home. Have fun with Garcia. It's fine."

"Spencer," Derek says quietly. They're standing closer now. Closer than is probably prudent, but Spencer can't quite make himself care enough to pull away. Instead he sways even closer and drops his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek's hands immediately land on his hips, and from the outside it probably looks like he's just helping to steady Spencer. "Let me take you home. Garcia can catch a ride with Hotch," he says, his mouth very n ear to Spencer's ear and his breath ruffling his hair. "Baby-"

"No," Spencer cuts in. He takes a step back, pulling out of Derek's grasp. "I promise it's fine. You can make it up to me later."

He smiles. It's better, more genuine than the laugh was, and then Derek kisses him. It's short, barely more than a brush of their lips, but it's out in the open where anyone could see if they were looking, and the pain that's been throbbing in his chest eases a bit. Spencer tries another smile , and this one almost manages to feel natural and easy. The coat check girl is back with his jacket now, and Spencer shrugs into it while Derek watches.

"Bring a piece of cake home with you," Spencer says as he starts to back away toward the door, and Derek's lips twitch, his eyes warm.

"Whatever you want, pretty boy."

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**************Thank you for reading! Feedback is overwhelmingly appreciated.**

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.****

Written as an extra response to the daily drabble exercise I do on my LJ. Answers the prompt "Reid hates Derek's beard."**************  
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